agreed, guiding her into the doorway, so that the firelight fell on his face.
âBut not yet couched,â Bruce added and the door closed on the pair of them.
A low, hackle-prickling bay snapped Hal from his revery and the caged hounds went wild.
âWind, wind!â White Tam called out hoarsely â and unnecessarily, for everyone was heading towards the sound; Hal saw that Isabel had handed her hawk to the loping, hunched figure of the Falconer and was now spurring her horse away. Bruce, who had been admiring Eleanorâs hawk, now thrust it back at the Falconer and followed, the pair of them forging ahead. Hal heard her laugh as Bruce blew a long, rasping discordance on a horn.
The limiers, hauling against their leashes as the luckless dog boys panted after, forged stealthily off in the eerie silence bred into them, the scent Roland had spoored for them strong in their snouts.
Malk appeared with Roland, the hound panting and trembling with excitement. He struggled at the leash and sounded a long, rolling cry from his outstretched throat that was choked off as Malk hauled savagely on the leash.
âEnough!â growled White Tam and shot Philippe a harsh look, which carried censure and poison in equal measure. He saw the Bernerâs mouth grow tight and then he was bellowing invective at the luckless Malk.
âHand him up,â demanded White Tam and Malk, scowling, hauled the squirming Roland off the ground and up on to the front of the old huntsmanâs saddle.
âSwef, swef, my beauty. Good boy.â
White Tam suffered the frantic face licks and fawning of the hound, then tucked it under one arm and turned to Hal with a wry smile.
âWhat a pity that when the nose is perfect, the legs have to go, eh?â
Roland was returned to Malk, who took him as if he were gold and carried him gently back to the cage. White Tam, frowning, looked down at the berner.
âWe will have Belle, Crocard, Sanspeur and Malfoisin,â he declared. âRelease the rapprocheurs.â
The hounds were drawn out and let slip, flying off like thrown darts, coursing left and right. Dog Boy saw Gib stagger a little under the slight strain of the two deerhounds, but a word from Todâs Wattie made them turn their heads reproachfully and whine.
Dog Boy saw Falo start to run after the speeding dogs, leashes flapping in his sweating hands and remembered all the times he had been the one with that thankless, exhausting task. Now he had been handed to this new lord and it was no longer part of his life. He realised, with a sudden leap of joy, so hard it was almost rage, that he was done with Gutterbluid and his birds, too.
Behind Falo the peasant beaters struggled to keep up, locals rounded up for the purpose and, in the mid-summer famine between harvests, weak with hunger and finding the going hard on foot; the rapprocheursâ sudden distant baying was wolfen.
Cursing, Hal saw the whole hunt fragment and stuck to the plan of following the Auld Templar, knowing Sir William would stick close to the Bruce and that Isabel would be tight-locked to the earl as well. If any Buchan treachery was visited, it would fall on that trio and Hal was determined to save the Auld Templar, if no-one else.
He forced through the nag of branches, looking right and left to make sure his men did the same. He urged Griff after the disappearing arse of Bruceâs mare, growling irritatedly as one of the Inchmartins loomed up, his stallion caught in the madness, plunging and fighting for the bit.
White Tam sounded a horn, but others blared, confusing just where the true line of the hunt lay; Hal heard the huntsman berate anyone who could hear about âtootling foolsâ and suspected the culprit was Bruce.
A sweating horse crashed through some hazel scrub near Dog Boy and almost scattered Gib from the deerhounds, who sprang and growled. Alarmed and barely hanging on, Jamie Douglas had time to wave before the horse
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